


A few centuries of orgies

by Cicuta_virosa



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Crack, Everybody Lives, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Fix-It, Happy Tony Stark, Honestly a bit of a PWP, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Sex with the Asgardians is a youth serum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-06-27 15:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicuta_virosa/pseuds/Cicuta_virosa
Summary: Nobody had predicted how human biology would react to regular sex with Asgardian, and by that Tony means the aging slowed to a crawl. But he won't protest. Even if his issues and his self despite can't resist to a few centuries of hapiness, family life and very good sex. Very, very good sex.





	1. Chapter 1

_Avengers Compound, 2367 AC._

The truth was simple: Asgardians had slept with humans before. Their secondary genders were inexistent, all of them registering as Alpha, but genitals were compatible and people were horny, no matters the species. But Asgardian had never stayed long enough for the possible effect of their biology on human biology to take place.

Until Ragnarok, and the misty morning when Tony, bleary-eyed and seriously undercaffinated for intergalactic diplomacy, had welcomed a spaceship full of them to the Avengers Compound and opened, in a true Tony Stark’s fashion, his home to people who needed it.

The news of Thanos and his close arrival had been a call to arms for Earth’s heroes and, in fact, exactly what they needed to close ranks and form a coherent unit, a well-oiled one, and too be honest a better one that the one they had achieved before the Civil War.

It had been a long war. It had been a cruel one. It had been battles after battles, most of them in space but some on Earth’s soil.

Earth didn’t have a moon anymore.

But it had been a victorious war and it had brought people together in a way peace couldn’t have. Life had proceed, complicated, messy, but so very rewarding after Thano’s war. It wasn’t until two years after the end of the war that Tony had had the fleeting thought that Asgardian biology was perhaps more strange than previously believed.

A pregnancy wasn’t rare in a male omega, that wasn’t the problem, he was literally designed for that. An Asgardian/Human pregnancy wasn’t surprising either, in the last two years, the Compound had welcomed a few already.

He was simply surprised that with all the hardships his body had had to endure, between the alcohols and the drugs and the fucking torture, and the arc reactor to top that, he could become pregnant, and at his age, without enough artificial hormones to send an entire convent of nuns into heat or rut.

But, well, he adored the children already born into their family, and he adored their strange, complicated family, full of polyamory and co-dependency. He had thought it was a miracle, a last hurrah of his omega body, and taken his prenatal vitamins with the same sort of precision he usually reserved for awesome, unknown and potentially lethal alien technology, and accepted the name Frigga Thor had proposed for their little girl.

Life was good. Life was very, very good, so good Tony couldn’t even put it into words. All the people he loved in the world living here, safe, safe where he could know they were safe, a Compound full of badass Asgardians and heroes, and so much mating couples/triads or more happening every day that the press pretended the Compound was a big, giant orgy.

Tony was too busy being happy to be suspicious.

It was only ten years later, as he was waddling from his fourth pregnancy, that he looked one day into the mirror and suddenly noticed he hadn’t, in those ten years, gained another grey hair, another wrinkle.

Hm.

He looked around him. Jane was working on her tablet, grumbling under her breath against stupid people, her second child on her breast. She was gorgeous…as she had been the first day he had meet her, just after sending a nuke into space, long before they even imagined being shared by an Alpha Asgardian prince. On the other side of the couch, Steve was napping, exhausted in his ninth month, his face as young as the day they defrosted him, but Steve didn’t count, because the serum made his biology complicated enough without adding other factors.

Tony quickly reviewed in his mind the faces of every heroes who had let themselves swiped of their feet by Asgardians.

“Fuck,” he whispered when his mind came back with pictures of perfect health, high rate fertility and too young faces, “fuck, what exactly do they put in Asgardian’ spunk?”

Now, more than centuries later, Tony understands his younger self panic. He never really believed it was some sort of diabolical plan from the Asgardian, who hadn’t even know it was a possibility, but it was still damn strange to see your own biology take a turn to the uncharted.

The uncharted but the deliciously perfect. As the sun goes higher in the sky, Tony opens his eyes in their nest, like every day, with the certitude than the day will be good. He rarely leaves the Compound those days. Heroism is left to the younger generations, like the twenty-three pups he gave Thor, or their sixty-four grandchildren, or their ten grandgranchildren. And if those ones are too busy for heroics, there are the pups Jane or Pepper gave Thor, and their own descendants, or the ones Steve and Bucky gave Heimdall, or the pups of Sif and Natasha….

The sector around Earth had never been more peaceful and their zone of influence is expanding every day. If Tony was interested in galactic domination, he was sure they could give it a shoot. Who knew human fertility, polyamory and Asgardian longevity was the answer?

But Tony isn’t interested in domination, galactic or otherwise, more in the noises who woke him up.

“It’s way too early for that,” he remarks, rolling over for a better view, but his voice misses grumpy and lands on amused. Apparently, what he needed to forget his chronic insomnia was a few centuries of happy family life, world peace and an Alpha with a sex drive high enough to give him Earth shattering orgasms regularly. Thor takes his three Omega mates satisfaction very seriously.

Jane is nowhere to see: she’s an early bird and prefers to let them sleep more and starts her work in the lab early, before coming back for breakfast with them and the children and grandchildren who are in the Compound right now a few hours later. But Pepper and Thor are still in the nest, golden and naked and beautiful, and it’s a really good wake-up call. Thor is an impressive view naked, and his hands on Pepper seem gigantic. She’s riding three of his fingers and mewling in an appreciative way that Tony understands. Thor’s fingers are big and agile and really a treat, like everything of him. Tony feels himself getting slick. What did he do to deserve such a life?

“Good morning, beloved,” Thor says, smiling to Tony, “you slept so well we started without you,” and Tony would quip an answer only Pepper is panting quicker, orgasm close, and Tony doesn’t want to miss that. He crawls to them and without preamble, he licks her mouth in a filthy kiss, her throat, her breasts, her belly, slightly round with her pregnancy, then her wet sex, open around Thor’s fingers. The god’s thumb abandons her clit, to push into her opening too, and Tony’s tongues it with a pleased hum. Pepper’s wails when she comes, her voice breaking, and Thor guides her tenderly against Tony, the two Omega intertwined, kissing each other tenderly, Thor petting them and murmuring praise. The moment Pepper comes back to herself, her hand searches for Thor, and rolls over behind her, guides her leg over Tony and pushes into her sex. Pepper sighs into Tony’s mouth. Even with four fingers before, the King of Asgard’s sex is quite an experience, even after centuries.

Thor is slow, tender, and Pepper lets go, sandwiched between the two men, sharing indolent kisses with her fellow Omega, Thor’s lips against her neck, Tony’s dick hard against her belly.

When Thor knots her, she comes again, and a third time when Tony eats her out again, dividing his attention between her clit and the root of Thor’s dick, the end of the bulbous knot.

Jane comes back with coffee for everyone just when Thor and Pepper separates and she helps Pepper into a bath, since the red head legs don’t support her very strongly. Pepper slips into the warm water with low satisfied sound, Jane’s arms and legs around her, and they kiss slowly.

The door of the bathroom has stayed open and they can admire Thor, insatiable, mounting Tony with vigour, claiming the smaller man, and Tony just takes it, abandoned to the punishing rhythm, a cry of pleasure at the end of every thrust. He’s in on his knees, his face against the sheet, ass in the air, offered to his Alpha’s use. They can’t see Tony’s face from there, but they have seen it enough times to imagine it, the mouth slack in pleasure, and the ecstasy. After years, he can come just from Thor’s dick, the god doesn’t even need to knot him, or to touch his dick, he can even pounds Tony to two orgasms if he has come once before.

Pepper yawns, lets her head rolls against Jane’ shoulder. She has files to review for the next visit of Kree diplomats, but that can wait. She slowly descends into a nap, the cries of Tony music into her ears.


	2. Chapter 2

Internalized omegaphobia.

That’s the words Tony threw to his face once, at the beginning of the Thanos War, when they had closed ranks behind Thor, desperate enough to work together but still reeling from all the harm they had done to each other.

With a few decades of therapy and a few centuries of happiness, Steve must recognize Tony was right.

About that, and a few other things he had said that day too. For a man who pretended he was baffled by human interactions and preferred robots, Tony certainly knew where to aim to hurt when he wanted to.

But that’s in the past, a past Steve had learned to let go.

Today, he rejoices in his gender, embraces it with trepidation, explores with delight every nuance of it, from the latest works of Omega activists to the glee of a happy relationship with a beloved Alpha and a fellow Omega, and the tenderness that blooms between Omega of the same pack.

He woke up early that morning: he had a call scheduled with his first child, working on the terraforming of Mars. She had asked when he would visit and he had finally admitted the truth: not right now, because he didn’t want to space travel pregnant. She had laughed and admitted she already suspected it, had for a few weeks.

“I have the more brothers and sisters of all the compound, and I don’t think centuries will change it! I will come back instead to meet the new bundle of joy. Do you know yet…”

“Just that it’s twins.”

Now, he was seating next to the lake, reading in theory but in fact busier watching the light playing on the water.

“Eh, Steve,” Tony calls, coming from the Compound. He has grease on a cheek, the healthy glow of the happy Omega, and is munching on a chocolate bar. He doesn’t hesitate in invading Steve’s blanket, nesting against him and sharing a chaste kiss, just a peck on the lips, sweet and chocolat-y.

“How are Tony and Tonia?” He asks, caressing lightly his pack member belly.

“Still not calling them that.”

“Antonio? Antoinette? Antoine?”

“Nope.”

With a dramatic sigh, Tony burrows closer against Steve, asking in a yaw:

“Where are you better half? Halves?”

“Bucky is at university. One of his students is having thesis related anxiety-”

“”- the Winter Soldier, history teacher. Still not over that one-“ 

“-and Heimdall went to Brussels with Sif, a Kree delegation is causing problems to the EU, and they are supposed to be interviewed by their Council this afternoon.”

“Oh, it was today?”

Tony yawns again, interested but in a distant way, and Steve feels a spark of pleasure at that. How safe is their pack. How safe is Earth. Centuries ago, Tony would have been in Brussels too, terrified of the risks for humanity, working himself sick in his efforts to shape the world in an alliance strong enough, to prepare them against what he had seen in space, what he knew was coming.

But Earth is safe today and Tony can rest.

Steve rolls over, his arms around Tony’s waist, his nose against his fellow Omega neck.

Tony smells satisfied, smells safe, smells like pack, like brother.

Together, they nap under the shadow of the trees, with just the sound of water, long and calm.

Later, strong arms lift him, and he opens his eyes to see the calm smile of his mate, turns to see Thor carrying a grumpy Tony into the Compound ahead of them. He closes his eyes again, let his head against Heimdall’ shoulder.

“Bed?” He asks, because he doesn’t care which hour it is, his pregnant hormones are always ready to go at the smallest sniff of Heimdall’ smell, at the smallest caress of his skin, at the simple beauty of his eyes.

How he adores that wonderful; honourable Alpha. From his indomitable strength, to his strong heart, his sharp mind, and yes, he is not ashamed of it, his talented knot.

“Don’t you want dinner?” the Asgardian asks, and Steve simply bites lightly the angle of his jaw in answer.

“Later,” he orders and Heimdall laughs and carries him to their nest.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve doesn’t remember why he had fought so much against his attraction for Heimdall at the beginning. Well, of course, he remember, but in hindsight it just doesn’t make sense. He thought he had to be alone to be strong. To be the person Captain America was supposed to be.

He thought…he thought the perfect soldier couldn’t be an Omega. Perhaps it had been one of the roots of his problems with Tony, because the other man always refused to feel ashamed of his secondary gender.

Now, Steve thinks perhaps he lost himself for a moment, for a few years, between the fall of SHIELD and the war of the Infinity Stones, that he forgot he was supposed to be not a perfect soldier but a good man.

He was lost, and perhaps a bit of an idiot.

Now, now, he had learned from his mistakes, he had healed, and he loves his present life, Heimdall, Bucky and all their children. Now, he luxuriates in the soft bed and he whines, spreading his legs more, putting himself on display for the Alpha he adores, and he had never been happier, more sure of his place in the world.

“Your scent is more intoxicating every day”, Heimdall chuckles, his voice warm like the sun in a beautiful summer day. He twists lightly one of Steve’s nipples and the Omega moans. His nipples became terribly sensitive during his first pregnancy, and never went back. He is not lactating, yet, but he can’t wait. He loves when Heimdall drinks from him during their lovemaking. He always produces so much milk, his children can’t drink everything, it hurts if someone doesn’t help, but even that hurt is good. Sometimes, there is so much even his fellow Omega drink from him, Bucky of course, but sometimes the other too. Those times are tender, not sexual, and reinforce the links between Omega, reinforce their strange, gigantic family.

Heimdall’s mouth joins his fingers and Steve whimpers again, pressing his two hands in the hair of his mate.

“More,” he asks, a touch of petulance in his voice. All those years lost to violence and loneliness, when love is so soft and good. It fills something in him he didn’t even realized was empty. Between his legs, his slick is starting to stain the covers and Heimdall gathers it, slicks his hand to run it around Steve’s cock. His mouth leaves Steve’s nipple for his bellybutton, a long line of kisses offered to the bump growing a little more every day.

“Your fertility is a gift and I’m honoured that you chose to share it with me,” he says and even if Steve had heard it, again and again, at every pregnancy, it still makes something glow, deep inside. His Alpha is pleased. He’s doing good, he’s a good Omega, and he will never have to go lonely again.

Soon, Heimdall has two, then three fingers playing with Steve’s hole, a delicious stretch, and Steve is panting, mewling without shame every time the Alpha touches his prostate. Heimdall sheaths a fourth finger in him, praising in a low tone how wet Steve is, how he’s always wet and tight and perfect, a beautiful mate who Heimdall will love until the end of time. Steve has been ready for his mate’s cock for long minutes, stretched and wet, but he doesn’t beg for quicker, floating in his pleasure, letting the waves of sensations carry him. This is a moment of gentleness, not like some other times when every second before Heimdall pushes into him is a second too long. The Asgardian is raining kisses and small bites everywhere he can reaches and Steve purrs, eyes closed. The sound is as old as Omega, as old as the human species, and he didn’t even know he could do it anymore, before Heimdall, since he hadn’t purred since he was five years old.

“How do you want me, my sweet love?” Heimdall asked, “Do you want to be on all four? Do you want me to mount you?”

“No. No, just like that. Soon; my belly will be too big, I want you to have me on my back.”

Heimdall was quite large by Earth standard, and Omega gossips in the Avengers Compound had let Steve learn he was even large by Asgardian standards, but Steve is so wet, so stretched, that the Alpha enters Steve in one long, satisfying push, without even a second of discomfort.

“Just like that,” Steve whispers, gripping the covers in tight fists, pleasure sparkling.

“Just like that,” Heimdall replies, taking his mouth in a long kiss, and he starts to move, slow, deep, as Steve curls his arms around his neck.

Yes, Steve had a long, difficult journey, but he doesn’t regret a minute, because it just brought him there, and here is perfect.

“Harder,” he suggests, and Heimdall chuckles, takes his mouth again in a kiss and gives a harder thrust, swallowing Steve’s half shout.

Yes, here is perfect.


	4. Chapter 4

Dusk is beautiful tonight and the inhabitant of the Compound are celebrating. It’s not a birthday, not an important date, just…just, a beautiful day, on an Earth on a good track, and the joy which is everywhere those days on the Compound just needs to spill sometimes.

There are two bonfires and drinks and music and so much laugh that Tony feels way more drunk from the atmosphere than on the two cups of mulled wine he had with dinner.

The Warriors Three are playing traditional Asgardians instruments, and Tony is dancing with little Mikhaila, eight years old, the youngest daughter Natasha gave Valkyrie.

“Faster!” the little slave driver laughs, and Tony laughs too, takes her in her arms to make her spin, her laughter spilling in a cascade. She’s a beautiful child, with Natasha’s eyes, and Valkyrie’s dark curls, and Tony feels something stirs in him.

His youngest child, a son, is twenty-years old now, doing a year aboard in Kyoto, and even if Tony helped took care of the twin Pepper had fifteen years ago, and the little boy Jane gave Thor seven years ago, even if they had a few grandchildren during those years, and he knows he will help with the little girl growing in Pepper’s womb right now….

At the end of the song, he lets little Mikhaila in one of her mother’s arms and wanders in search of his mate.

He finds Thor sitting with Loki, discussing calmly, smiles on their faces, and who would have believed that centuries ago? Loki is blue, today, and male, and Tony had stopped trying to predict why and when and for how long he switches from a gender to another, from a skin colour to another. It’s just Loki, his sibling in law, one of the key warriors into Thanos’ defeat, the father of a few of the Barton siblings, and the mother of another bunch of said Barton’s siblings.

The nightmares about the hole in space, and his nose dive from a window, disappeared almost three hundred years ago, and Tony has made peace with their shared past.

“May I steal my husband for a dance, or are you plotting another pranks war?” He tells Loki, and the other smiles, knowingly. He is neither Alpha nor Omega, like the Asgardians, but being sometimes one thing, sometimes another, gives him an understanding of being an Omega or an Alpha, and he seems to always know too much.

Tony leads his mate nearer a bonfire, and links his arms around his neck. They sways together more than they dance, sharing long kisses and no words, simply happy. It’s peace, simply, happily. He can see from the corner of his eyes Bucky dancing with Heimdall and Pepper swaying gently with Jane and Laura.

Safe.

The people he loves are safe and an immense wave of gratitude swells in him. Despite all his efforts, all those years, he knows it wouldn’t have been enough against Thanos, if not for the Asgardians, and his desire to help Thor the best he could, to provide everything the space refugee and their king needed, lead him to spending more time with Thor after the end of the war, and one thing following another….

On tiptoes, Tony reaches for his husband’s ear and Thor obediently leans down, probably thinking Tony wants to start their night with a bit of dirty talk.

“My next heat is in two months,” Tony whispers instead, “and I don’t want to take my pills for it.”

He feels the rumble of the half growl that Thor can’t stop.

“Like that, big guy? I want another pup. I want you to mount me again and again, until I’m so full of your sperm that I overflows with it. I want to be mindless with pleasure and to beg for your knot like I only do in heat….”

“You’re the one we should call silver tongue,” Thor remarks, then one of his big hand presses against one of Tony’s ass cheek and Tony hisses to stop a surprised moan.

“I think we should train, to be sure we are ready for your heat,” Thor says, his eyes twinkling, and Tony can only laugh like a lunatic, like he never would dare in another life, before Thor, before the joy, as his mate throws him onto his shoulder on a fireman carry and takes him to their nest, letting the party continues without them.


	5. Chapter 5

Clint doesn’t understand Loki’s fascination for strap-on.

Since the beginning of their love, Loki has been male, female, intersex, and all variations possible, and impossible, known to human and aliens.

Loki has been almost Omega, deliriously pliant, asking for Clint’s cock and semen, begging for it, ass in the air, presenting like the most perfect vision, a fertile dream, ready to bear Clint’s children. Loki has been almost Alpha, cock hard and ready, knotting Clint like they’re trying to prove something, making Laura yells from pleasure with a knot so big that Clint and Laura have sometimes passed out from pleasure.

Clint has fathered Loki’s children, Clint had been round from Loki’s children and kissed Laura’s belly when she was so heavy from Clint’s pups or Loki’s. So yes, they have had a lot occasions to explore the nuances of sexuality, sex-toys included.

That still doesn’t explain the strap-one’s obsession. His mate can grow a penis when they want it! Why choose a plastic one?

No, Clint will never understand.

But it’s not important. Because it’s something that please Loki, and Laura and Clint love Loki. Neither Loki nor Clint are particularly interested in wax play, but sometimes they buy specialized candles, just because Laura loves it, and goes crazy every time. And Loki and Laura don’t understand some of Clint’s kinks, but in the same way, they love to indulge him.

So, strap-on.

Loki is more or less a blue beta female today, close from human anatomy, but not totally, and she’s definitely a her, she said it herself at breakfast. She wore all day that beautiful white dress Thor bought her back as a gift from a trip to Milan last year and, as Clint and Laura discovered a few minutes ago, she also decided for traditional earth female undergarment. Laura’s eyes crossed when she saw the garter belt: she always had had a thing for lingerie, and Clint himself was in the habit to wear lace for her long before they mated with Loki.

The garter belt is red, beautiful on the blue skin, and the strap on and its harness are red too, a Ferrarri red, something shiny and a little intoxicating.

Clint would took pictures, if he wasn’t too busy admiring the view: Laura lapping at the shiny head, and then descending on the toy, her head bobbing gently, and the tenderness of Loki’s hand on Laura’s face. Clint is hard enough to pound nails, and also getting slicker every minute.

“Feeling more voyeur than participant today, beloved?” Loki suddenly asks, an amused smile on her blue lips, her tone fond, and Clint can’t do nothing else than stealing a kiss from that mouth, then joining Laura. He loves them so fucking much, he wants to worship them, always, and today, it’s definitely one of those days when Loki will let them fucked out and deliciously used. Clint kisses the tip of the dildo, and Laura and him shares a long kiss around the head of the toy, Loki’s long hands in their hair, directing them for her pleasure. Clint is getting wetter by the minute, and when one of his hands brushes Laura’s cunt, he find her underwear soaked.

“I think it will be a glorious night,” Loki whispers.


End file.
